There are moments in life where the past and present gently meet—when we pause long enough to let memory, emotion and hope intertwine. One of those moments is coming up for me this July, when we head to North Wales for my dad’s 80th birthday. A milestone birthday for a man who has given us so much, and a time where family, celebration, and reflection come together.
This trip is more than just a holiday. It’s a pilgrimage in many ways.
We’ll be visiting places where my dad grew up—Bangor, Caernarfon, and other spots rich in family history. But there is one place I am most looking forward to: the grave of my twin brother, Nicholas, and my Nain (Welsh for grandmother). This visit carries a deep personal significance. It will be the first time some of my family—my sister and my older nieces—have been to Nicholas’s resting place. And for me, it will be the first time I take Amelia there.
It might sound strange to some, but I desperately want to introduce Amelia to them. I want her to meet them in the only way she can—through love, through memory, and through presence of heart. Even though Nicholas and Nain are no longer here in body, I feel they are very much part of our journey. I know they’re watching over us, and I know they already love Amelia. But this visit is my chance to show Amelia where part of her story begins.
My twin brother has always been a part of me. Born too soon, he didn’t make it—but I did. And that has shaped so much of my life. It’s a strange kind of survivor’s grief that lives in the quiet corners of your soul. It’s a longing for a connection you can feel but not fully touch. Taking Amelia to his grave feels like something I need to do—not just for me, but for him and for her.
And Nain. Oh, how I wish she had met Amelia. I know she would’ve loved her deeply, just as she did all of us. Nain was the matriarch, the quiet strength in the background of our family. She is the reason I carry on with compassion and kindness at the heart of everything I do. She would have been so proud. I can picture her now, holding Amelia’s little hand, whispering something in Welsh that makes them both smile.
I suppose, if I could speak to anyone very soon, it would be to Nicholas and Nain. I would tell them about Amelia’s cheeky grin, her wild energy, and her beautiful spirit. I would tell them about the love and chaos of our little family. And I’d tell them how much I miss them. How I carry them in my heart every single day.
This trip is going to be emotional, there’s no doubt about that. But it’s also going to be healing. It’s about closing a circle. About letting those we’ve lost meet those we’ve gained. And I know that when Amelia runs around the graves, laughing or exploring or asking questions, something sacred will happen.
Love always finds a way.
Call to Action:
Have you ever introduced your child to a loved one who’s passed? I’d love to hear how you honoured that connection. Let’s support each other in keeping memories alive. Please like, share, and subscribe to The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey so we can grow this community of compassion and strength together.
References:
Sands UK – Supporting families through baby loss: https://www.sands.org.uk Cruse Bereavement Support: https://www.cruse.org.uk Tommy’s: https://www.tommys.org
Who would you like to talk to soon?
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